


Hands Off My Man

by montmorency



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-16
Updated: 2011-07-16
Packaged: 2017-10-21 10:51:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/224376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/montmorency/pseuds/montmorency
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam really doesn't like it when other guys try to kiss Tommy onstage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hands Off My Man

**Author's Note:**

> _Author’s note: Tommy’s been jamming with lots of other musicians lately, which is very cool. And I really, really love when he plays the six-string. But when I saw the video of him playing with Ravi Dhar and the Heartless, I was probably madder than even Adam (LOL) that Ravi was trying to cuddle and maybe even – gross – kiss Tommy Joe. This is not RL, this is just some fun fantasy, nothing against any actual relationships that Adam or Tommy may have. Hope you enjoy._

Adam watches the fan-made videos where Tommy jams with Monte. He’s proud of his band members. He’s so happy that his great friend Monte has become such a good friend to Tommy as well.

Adam also loves when Tommy comes along to events. Tommy doesn’t like the limelight so he hides in taxis while the paps are doing their thing. He steps away from Adam whenever Adam is being interviewed and goes and finds someone else to talk with.

Then Adam sees the videos where Tommy is playing in another friend’s band, someone Adam doesn’t know, some proto-punk named Ravi. At first he’s charmed with Tommy playing lead guitar. He’s good, like, really really good. The punk sound isn’t Adam’s favorite thing but he can see it’s something that Tommy loves doing. It doesn’t hurt at all that Tommy looks really hot in his rocker incarnation. The gay Christmas elf outfit had been amazing but seriously, Tommy looks so comfortable in black leather and plain tee-shirts.

He wants to go to one of the gigs and hide in the back of the room and watch Tommy jamming out on lead. According to Tommy’s twitter another gig is coming up and Adam decides he’s going to try sneaking in. He’s familiar with the Satellite in Silver Lake – the former Club Spaceland. It’ll be fun to watch Isaac on drums, too, but Adam’s going to be staring at Tommy most of the time, no lie. He asks Monte to come with.

Monte’s totally on board.

The night of the gig, Adam spends an hour in his walk-in closet, changing his outfit three times before realizing he might miss the show if he doesn’t hurry up and get his ass over to the venue. At first he thinks a nice dress shirt (from his mom for his birthday – she never gives up trying, bless her) and Dockers (a gag gift from Neil) will make a pretty good disguise. He even removes all his nail polish. Then he re-thinks it: if Tommy sees him like this, yoicks. No way. He tries a bright blue plaid shirt but decides it’s too loud and will draw attention. Fuck paparazzi for making his life so miserable. Much as he loves having so many fans, he longs for anonymity. It’s a trade-off he knew was coming, but still. Lucky Tommy. Adam knows damn well some of his own crazy-ass fans go lurking after Tommy but there are far fewer of the diehards than those that stalk Adam. He sighs and settles on hiding in plain sight in black jeans, black boots, black tee, black leather jacket. He reapplies the nail polish fast, keeps the eye makeup restrained and goes with the old-style bangs, nothing fancy, just kind of plain.

He and Monte meet at a foreordained corner a block away. Monte’s wearing an almost fluorescent neon-green Hawaiian shirt.

“So much for incognito,” Adam says. Even on the dark street that fucking thing practically phosphoresces.

“You don’t get it, man,” Monte explains, “this will draw attention to me and take it away from you. No one knows who I am.”

“Tommy and Isaac do. Not to mention rabid glam-fans.”

“I thought we were hiding from photographers.”

“They don’t frequent this dump.”

“Point taken.” Monte zips up his leather jacket to hide the shirt.

Show’s supposed to start at 11:00 pm sharp but they know how that goes. They stay away for an extra twenty because the band’s hauling in their equipment and setting up. When it seems safe they cross the street and pay the $5 cover and slip inside. The bar isn’t safe because the band members are getting their comps and Tommy always needs a drink. They skirt the back area and find a deserted and rickety table and order drinks. Some of the crowd from the previous band has left and some people who might be Ravi’s friends are settling in.

“You know much about this Ravi guy?” Adam says, low, sipping on a G&T.

“Nah, friend of Isaac’s, I gather.” Monte is drinking PBR. Ick.

It’s a sneaky little thrill to be sitting here in the dark with Monte, watching Tommy who doesn’t even know he’s here. He can stare all he wants and Tommy won’t be the wiser. Monte might guess, but then Monte guessed way back at the audition so that doesn’t bother Adam. Much.

And Tommy looks so good. As though he isn’t already slender enough, the snug-fitting black leather jacket and skinny jeans make him look tiny and amazingly delicious. Adam wants to wrap his hands around that waist and see if his hands will totally encompass it. It’s not like he got a chance to do that during the Glam Nation tour since there was always a gigantic bass guitar in the way.

Tommy picks up his guitar and slings the strap over his shoulder and messes with the amps and foot pedals, riffs pealing up and down the fret board randomly. It’s that exciting moment at every concert, every gig, where the music is right on the razor’s edge of starting up and only the guys on stage know when it’ll happen. Adam loves that moment from either side of the stage. Tommy faces Isaac at the drum kit, just strumming a two-part chord like it’s no big deal, over and over while the other band members get ready, and then suddenly he turns around and they rip into the opening. Even though Tommy looks awesome in glam gear, Adam has to admit that this is his best look: smoky eyes, tats and asymmetrical bleached haircut, set off by the plain black clothing.

It’s pretty loud in here so Adam has to half-yell in Monte’s ear to be heard. “Tommy’s so awesome, isn’t he?” He almost said Tommy’s so hot, isn’t he? but caught himself in time.

“He’s an excellent musician and he keeps getting better all the time,” Monte agrees. “He’d be your lead if I wasn’t your friend.”

“I wouldn’t have anyone but you for lead,” Adam says. “But I’m fucking thankful he was willing to learn bass.”

“Damn straight.”

There’s that word – straight. Adam heaves a big internal sigh. Ain’t that the problem? But thinking about that too much – that way lies madness. Back to the pleasanter activity of Tommy-watching. The boy is so entertaining with all the hair-flipping. Best hairdo ever. Adam’s hair would never do that. Who the hell would want to watch that anyway? What’s cute on Tommy isn’t necessarily cute on Adam. And Tommy’s half-assed attempts at hip-swiveling? Some things Adam is superior at, go fuck yourself.

That Ravi dude leaps and cavorts about the tiny stage like a fucking maniac on amphetamines. His voice is nothing to write home about but Adam gets that it’s supposed to be a punk ambience. Still, what in fuck are the lyrics? Adam likes to communicate through words and tone. He can’t make out a single word that Ravi is “singing.”

Also, that swinging microphone. What’s up with that? It’s all fun and games until someone loses an eye. The guy is like a lawsuit waiting to happen. Is he too poor to afford a wireless mic? Adam considers buying one for him if only to protect Tommy, because he’s getting seriously worried that his bass player is in danger of being conked in the face.

He pays attention to the music, too. It’s really hard driving shit. The new album is shaping up and Adam has been promising the media that it’s darker with more of a rock edge. This was the right way to go, because Tommy’s going to love playing the songs on the next tour. Adam gets a warm feeling at the core of his heart just thinking about going on tour again. That was the most incredible thing he’s ever done and he can’t wait to do it again. What makes it best is doing it with the people he loves so much.

On the other hand he’s not sure how macking on his bass player is going to mesh with a harder rock sound. Maybe that’s more of a glam thing. Because seriously? He’s spent the last few months having withdrawal pains from no more Tommy kisses. Even a heroin addict would be over it by now, right? Not Adam Lambert. He spends whole evenings trying to think up scenarios where he gets to kiss Tommy again. Kiss the world’s most gorgeous lips, that is, we’re not talking about cheeks and foreheads here. Hugs are nice and Tommy doles those out like free candy when they’re alone. But man does not live by hugs alone. The Finnish kid is sweet and they’ve had fun, but talk about a long-distance relationship, they’re not doing that. If Adam’s being honest with himself, he would drop anyone, not excepting former love-of-his-life Brad, in two seconds for a chance at Tommy.

The problem with Adam Lambert in respect of Tommy Joe Ratliff’s perfect lips is that the aforementioned Adam Lambert can’t simply lay one on him; he needs a reason, an excuse. So far he hasn’t found one that doesn’t make him cringe inwardly.

Whoops, Monte’s talking. “He brings his lead chops to bass which is interesting.”

“Huh? Oh, right.”

“The long fingers really help with that. Tommy’s got a guitarist’s hands.”

Adam can just imagine. Those long fingers and strong little hands – he knows just how strong because Tommy’s held his hand sometimes and he has a fierce grip – can probably do a lot more than merely finger a fret board.

“The wider neck and thick strings are a challenge for shredding. Also, switching off isn’t that easy.”

Damn, can’t Monte see he’s busy drooling? Wait. Yeah, Monte probably can see and is trying to distract him. Monte knows Adam waaaay too well for actual comfort. Monte’s played wingman for him before but this is someone they both know. Someone they both know is straight. That damn word again.

Whoa. Okay. What is that long-haired freak of nature doing now? Did he ruffle Tommy’s hair? Did he just try to kiss Tommy Joe!? What the actual glittery fuck?

Adam stands so abruptly that his chair falls over. Fortunately the clatter goes unheard beneath the deafening music. Monte’s hand grabs his arm, hard.

“Down, boy,” Monte says, leaning over and righting the chair with his free hand.

“But Monte!”

“No buts, sit.”

Adam’s butt hits the chair again. “Monte,” he stage-whispers furiously, “did you see that?”

Monte leans in, says in his ear, “Tommy’s a grownup, he can take care of himself.”

“But –”

“Let it go, it doesn’t mean anything.” Monte keeps a hand on his arm the rest of the set, as though he’s afraid Adam might bolt. And really, Monte’s not wrong about that. Adam knows the way backstage and when that freak comes off stage he’s going to find a glittery glam-rock god waiting for him and if that doesn’t scare the bejesus out of him then Adam’s going to, you know, fuck his shit up. Somehow. Adam can do it. He’s pretty sure he can. He’ll channel the Duke; that’ll get him points with Tommy.

Adam sits there miserably for three more songs, getting madder and madder. Ravi is stealing Adam’s moves and Tommy seems to find it hilarious, the little traitor. At one point he’s sure that lips are going to meet, the way the fucktard is aiming for Tommy, but at the last second Tommy throws out an elbow and shoves him away with a grin. Thank gawd. Adam’s not entirely sure what he would have done if lips had met, but it would have been ugly.

The microsecond the set’s over and the band’s off the stage, Adam escapes Monte and hauls ass for the back.

“Wait up!” Monte yells, hard on his heels.

Backstage at the Satellite is no more than a hell-hole of thousand-year-old graffiti scrawls and carpet stains that Adam doesn’t want to know the ontology of. In the gloom he spots Tommy snickering with Isaac while Ravi bears down. The fucker’s got his arms around Tommy’s shoulders and has the fucking gall to kiss Tommy on the cheek. Isaac hoots and Tommy giggles. The fucker goes for the lips and that’s right when Adam practically screams, “Get your fucking hands off him!” He yanks Ravi off Tommy and throws him aside, making him stumble.

“Adam?” Tommy says, surprised.

“Monte?” Isaac adds, looking past Adam.

“What the fuck, asshole?” Ravi shrieks, still amped up on a stage high.

“You!” Adam points at Ravi menacingly. “Keep your fucking hands off my fucking – um – fucking bass player!”

“Are you insane?”

“Shut up!”

“You come to my motherfucking gig and tell me to shut up? Asshole.”

“I’m the asshole?” Adam feels a you-talking-to-me moment coming on. “I’m the asshole? Are you for real? I’m the asshole? You think Tommy wants you all over him like that?”

“Tommy didn’t mind, so it’s none of your business, prick.”

“Yeah he minded, he pushed you away, can’t you take no for an answer?”

“Adam…”

Adam spins to face Tommy. “And you, how could you let him – shit! I can’t believe you let him do that!”

Monte’s hand is back on his arm. “Adam, Adam.”

“It’s fucking rock-and-roll,” Tommy says angrily. “It’s my life. It’s not your business.”

Adam gapes. “Not my business?”

“You don’t own me, Adam.”

Adam glares at him. He can’t believe what he’s hearing. Tommy thinks this behavior is acceptable? “I’m your only exception, remember?”

Tommy snorts. “You’re the one who said that, I didn’t.”

Oh, he did not just say that. That’s low. It’s true, but it’s low. Adam had almost convinced himself that Tommy believed it, too, because Adam needed so badly for that to be the case. He doesn’t own Tommy, no, but god he feels like he should and why can’t Tommy see that? Tommy needs to stop torturing him at the very least.

Right now? Tommy looks really mad. It’s a good look on him because it’s so unusual. That is, it would be a good look if it weren’t directed at Adam.

Tommy crouches to put his guitar in its case, his movements terse and jumpy. Isaac slinks over near Ravi. The two of them look extremely uncomfortable. The other band members wisely bailed awhile back.

Monte scratches his head awkwardly. “Adam, you might want to re-think this.”

A club employee comes in, notices the thick tension in the air, and backs out.

Tommy straightens up, case in hand, glancing at Monte and then staring at Adam.

Adam’s mood deflates just a little. “Can I talk to you?” he says to Tommy.

“Here?”

“Yes?” Adam shrugs and looks around, feeling a little guilty like he always does after throwing a tantrum. “Monte, Isaac, asshole, can we get some privacy?”

Monte shoos the other two ahead of him out the door. “You may not have long before people are back,” he says. “Tommy?”

Tommy nods at Monte. The door into the club clicks shut. The door to the alley is cracked open but no one’s out there.

“It’s not just me?” Adam can’t help sounding hurt.

“I could ask you the same question.”

“What? I’m gay, people expect me to kiss other men. Is it weird that I want a relationship?”

“Then why do you care who kisses me?”

“If it were a girl I wouldn’t care.”

“Really?”

“Fuck yes, really. I think.” Adam’s head is spinning. He’s glad that Tommy doesn’t have a sweetheart. It makes him seem available even though he’s obviously not available… to Adam. And he’d best not be available to any other men, either. “You’re not into that guy, are you?”

“Of course not.”

“Then why do you let him do that?”

Tommy chews on his lip. “I’m not sure I want to have this conversation anymore.”

Adam glowers. “Would you put that guitar case down? It looks heavy. And stop eyeing the back exit.”

Tommy fidgets, looking at the alley door, at the floor, at his chipped nail polish. Finally he sets the case down.

“Say something,” Adam begs. He hates the silence and the glaring.

“Something,” Tommy snipes.

“Okay, I’m being an asshole, I know that. You don’t have to mock me.”

“You are so dumb sometimes.”

Adam can’t deny that. He feels sad, looking at Tommy who is adorable and wonderful and sweet and gorgeous and talented and who should be his, his, his. “Honey, you are so amazing and when you play, god you’re sexy. I’m selfish, I don’t want anyone else to have you.”

“So you can have someone but I can’t?”

Adam takes a step forward. He thinks maybe Tommy flinched a tiny bit. That hurts even more. “I wish things could be different.”

“Yeah, well, join the club, it’s not like I like looking at pictures of you holding hands with… shit.”

Adam looks down into Tommy’s eyes. Wow, he got really close and Tommy let him. “Huh?”

“Can’t I be selfish, too?”

“Tommy, what are you – are you saying that you’re jealous?”

Tommy sucks in a deep breath. “So dumb,” he whispers. “You never pay attention when you should. How many times did I try to let you know?”

Now Adam’s confused. Let him know what?

“And what do I get for it?” Tommy continues, voice rising. “Other guys start thinking they can do it, too, that I’ll slut up for anyone at all.” He shudders.

Adam’s hand seems to have weaseled its way into Tommy’s jeans pocket to haul him closer. “Did I take advantage of you, baby?”

“Dumb,” Tommy repeats. “God, you’re a dumb-ass.”

“Tommy?”

Then they’re kissing, who even knows how. Tommy’s strong fingers crumple Adam’s shirt, Adam’s hands cradle Tommy’s head and hold him in place while he ravages Tommy’s mouth, his gorgeous, beautiful, whiskey-flavored mouth. Adam doesn’t need air any longer, he only needs Tommy. It’s been so long and it’s so sweet, can Adam keep this? He pulls back but only so far. He feels Tommy’s breath on his lips.

“I am dumb, aren’t I?” he murmurs, still holding Tommy’s head, moving his hands to cup Tommy’s face and hold it up to the light. “I can’t believe this is happening. Do you know how long I wanted it?”

“Dumb,” says Tommy. “Total dumb-ass. Although the caveman act was pretty hot, not gonna lie about that.”

Adam grins. “No one touches my man. No one but me.”

“Jealous bitch,” Tommy snarks, leaning up to press a kiss against Adam’s mouth, looping his arms around Adam’s waist. “Ravi’s a pretty nice guy, actually.”

“I’m embarrassed,” Adam allows.

“I think you owe him an apology.”

“I think I don’t want to think about him right now.”

Tommy twitches. “Me, either.”

Adam sighs. “Don’t let that guy do that anymore, okay? Or any other guy.”

“Okay. Send your twink home.”

“Okay. Nothing’s happening there. We had some fun, it’s done.”

“Better be. Hands off my man. It goes both ways.”

Adam squeezes Tommy hard.

“Ouch,” Tommy says.

“That didn’t hurt, don’t front, you love it.”

Tommy squirms free, more or less, still loosely held. He presses his chest against Adam’s, tilts his head up, accepts another kiss. He looks deep into Adam’s eyes. “You know, you could have told me sooner and saved us all this crap.”

“How was I supposed to know what you were thinking? You could have said something to me,” Adam counters, “like something other than that you’re straight.” Adam rubs his nose against Tommy’s. “I mean, aren’t you straight?”

“Yeah,” Tommy says. “You’re my only exception.”

 

THE END


End file.
